


Baker's Man

by ClassyFangirl



Series: Belly Achin' [6]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Baking, Belly Kink, Feeding, Food Porn, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/pseuds/ClassyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt bakes for Hermann and does it rather more successfully than Hermann did. Date night is far more exciting now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baker's Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for an anon's request on tumblr. They only asked for Newt baking Nutella scones for Hermann, and I...sort of turned that into this. Hopefully they are not repelled.

There is a note on Hermann’s desk. In Newt’s nearly illegible scrawl, it reads:

_“Hermann!_

_Come to my room at 1800 SHARP!! I’ve got a big surprise for you. ;)_

♥ _Newt”_

He looks over at the other side of the room, where Newt is working diligently on dissecting what may be a liver, showing no indication that he did, in fact, leave this note. It is a classic example of Newt being “sneaky”. He shakes his head, but pockets the note. Evenings with Newt are always exciting, no matter what they entail.

Newt all but bolts out of the lab an hour before their scheduled _rendez-vous,_ and Hermann wonders if he should go check up on him, make sure everything’s all right. He loves Newton, he really does, but the man’s plans do not always end well, to say the least. But he puts his faith in him. He’ll only worry if he starts to smell smoke.

He knocks on Newton’s door at exactly eighteen hundred hours- Hermann is nothing if not precise. The door swings open, and there is Newt, grinning at him, and- _oh._

For one, the room is _clean,_ which is far more than he has come to expect from Newton. He generally tries to spend as little time there as possible, it’s so awful. But tonight, everything is neat- his bed is made, there is no laundry or garbage on the floor, and there are no papers littering the top of his desk.

And for another, Newt is wearing that _obscenely_ tight shirt, the one Hermann has told him he is _not_ to wear in public. It stretches dangerously over the swell of his stomach, and one button that rests precisely at his middle regularly comes undone. Hermann adores it, though the sight of it makes him flush.

The third and most glaringly noticeable change is the table located in the center of Newt’s room. It’s a small table, but covered in a red tablecloth and laden with plates of food. “Did you _make_ this?” Hermann asks.

“Oh- nah, not this- this is lasagna from the mess hall, except I called in a couple favors and got the really good stuff. Well.” Newt looks contemplative. “The _not awful_ stuff. I’ve got something _really great_ coming, though. Sit down, sit down!”

The lasagna _is_ of remarkably better quality than the usual Shatterdome fare, even if it is hardly delicious. They eat and talk, and the evening is so _nice_ that Hermann cannot fathom what Newton’s “big surprise” is.

When their plates are cleared, Newt picks them up and rushes to the back of his room, where he fumbles with something Hermann cannot see. “All right,” Newt says, “I know you prefer that super dark, bitter chocolate, but with rations and everything, a decent bar or anything is _waaay_ above my pay grade. But! I think I did okay.”

“Newton, what on earth are you talking about?”

Newt returns to the table, grinning broadly, with a plate of dark brown scones in his hands. “As expensive as the really good chocolate is, y’know what’s stayed cheap? Nutella. So, uh- ta-dah!”

They smell _heavenly_. “Newton...you baked these?”

“Yeah! It took me _forever_ to get all the ingredients, but it was totally worth it.” He pauses and a fearful look crosses his face. “You’re not allergic to hazelnuts or something, are you?”

“No, no, I’m not- Newton, these look _incredible_.”

Newt actually looks _bashful,_ and Hermann privately vows to compliment him more often. “Well, here’s hoping they taste as good as they look, heh! Here...” He breaks off a corner of one scone and presses it against Hermann’s lips. Hermann feels a flash of annoyance at being hand-fed, but he opens his mouth and lets the pastry land on his tongue. He shuts his eyes and sighs as the chocolate melts in his mouth. _Gott,_ it’s been so long since he’s had good chocolate.

He opens his eyes to see Newt smiling softly, fondly at him. “What? What’s that look for?”

“You’re just...I dunno.” He shrugs. “I like how you look when you’re happy.”

Hermann feels the heat rise in his cheeks. “Yes, well. Here- come sit. With me.”

“What, on your lap? I can’t do that, dude, your leg-”

Hermann stands and moves the plate of scones from the table to the bed. “Here, then. Come on, darling.”

Newt sits next to him on the bed, their backs to the headboard and the plate only thing between them. Hermann breaks a scone in half and feeds it to Newton, delights in how he hums happily at the taste. “Damn,” Newt says, grinning. “I’m _good_ at baking.”

“You certainly are,” Hermann says, and he steals a quick kiss from Newton. His lips taste like chocolate. He holds up the other half of the scone. “Care for some more?”

“Man, I made these for you, don’t shove them all in _my_ mouth.”

“There are plenty, Newton. I’m perfectly capable of sharing.”

Newt sits up and straddles Hermann’s legs, carefully not resting his weight on top of them. He lets Hermann unbutton his shirt- in fact, all he really has to do is drag his finger along the length of the shirt. The buttons are straining so much that they come undone with no effort at all. Hermann presses a hand to Newt’s warm, soft stomach, and with the other hand places the scone in Newt’s mouth.

Newt chews and swallows dutifully, then leans down to give Hermann another chocolate-flavored kiss. He shifts his hips and a sly smile appears on his face- ah. It seems he’s felt the erection growing in Hermann’s trousers.

“You’re such a perv, Hermann,” Newt teases, bumping their foreheads together lightly. “Who knew I could turn you on with chocolate?”

Hermann scoffs. “As if that wasn’t your intention in the first place.”

“Fair enough.” Newt unzips Hermann’s trousers and then his own, freeing their cocks so he can rub them together. “We should do this more often.”

“Newton, we do this- _ah_ -at _least_ once a week.”

“I mean- dinner. You can cook, and I’ll bake us an _awesome_ dessert.” He pumps his hips forward and Hermann shivers at the almost electric feeling. “Maybe I can get chocolate fondue, somehow.”

Hermann curls his fingers in Newt’s hair. He thinks he knows the answer, but he still asks, “Why fondue?”

“So you can- _god,_ Hermann -so you can lick it off me. And if you’ll let me _dare_ get you a little messy, I could- _fuck, fuck_ -return the favor.”

They come in sticky bursts, soaking Newt’s stomach and Hermann’s shirt. “ _Really,_ Newton. And this was still a perfectly good shirt.”

Newt laughs. “Sorry, man. But hey- I like you better without it anyway.”

“You sneaky wretch.”


End file.
